By The Sunriser
The most magical season arrived once again in San Esperanza—election season! Not quite as festive as Christmas, but infinitely more profitable for the average citizen. Every 3 years, the streets transformed from mundane thoroughfares into veritable rivers of generosity, where politicians’ faces bloomed on everything from t-shirts to rice sacks like a peculiar form of seasonal flora.
Mang Tomas had been preparing for this moment since the last election. He’d carefully cataloged which politicians gave the best handouts and calculated the optimal route between campaign rallies to maximize his collection efficiency. After all, a man didn’t become the neighborhood’s premier “ayuda consultant” without developing a certain expertise.
“The trick,” he explained to his apprentice and nephew, Carlo, “is to look desperate but dignified. Too desperate and they think you’ll vote for food alone. Too dignified and they think you don’t need the help. It’s a delicate balance.”
Carlo nodded earnestly, adjusting the slightly tattered but still respectable shirt his uncle had selected for him. “And we visit all the candidates? Even the ones we don’t like?”
Mang Tomas looked scandalized. “Of course! Political principles are luxury items that appear after elections, not during. Besides, Senator Mondragon’s campaign gives out the best canned goods, but Congressman De Vega offers superior rice. One must diversify one’s handout portfolio.”
The aspiring politicians of San Esperanza didn’t disappoint. This season’s crop was particularly generous, having apparently discovered that inflation had also affected the going rate for votes. Where once a simple bag of groceries might suffice, now citizens expected cash cards, scholarships, and promises of infrastructure that would miraculously materialize the day after elections, only to become invisible again until the next campaign.
At Councilor Hidalgo’s rally, attendees received brand-new smartphones—”To better communicate your needs to my office,” she explained with a wink that somehow conveyed both complicity and plausible deniability.
“But ma’am,” an elderly woman asked, “won’t these be expensive to maintain?”
“Don’t worry,” Hidalgo beamed. “They come with free data until Election Day!”
Mayor Santos, not to be outdone, introduced his “Prosperity Preparedness Program”—identical to last election’s “Community Enhancement Initiative,” which itself bore a striking resemblance to the “Citizen Empowerment Project” from the election before that. The program consisted primarily of envelopes containing cash, alongside pamphlets explaining how Santos alone understood the plight of the common citizen.
“We must invest in our future,” Santos proclaimed as his assistants distributed the envelopes. “And what better investment than in the wise judgment of our voters?”
By mid-afternoon, Mang Tomas and Carlo had collected enough foodstuffs to open a small grocery store, plus three t-shirts bearing different candidates’ faces (“Perfect sleeping shirts,” Mang Tomas noted), and a cash card loaded with just enough pesos to inspire gratitude but not enough to constitute obvious vote-buying under election laws.
They paused their collection efforts at a local eatery where several neighbors had gathered to compare their hauls.
“Governor Reyes is offering free medical checkups,” reported Mrs. Dizon. “The doctor listened to my heart for three seconds, declared me healthy, then handed me an envelope with the governor’s photo and two hundred pesos.”
“That’s nothing,” countered Mr. Bautista. “Congressman Lopez promised to pave our street. He even brought a single piece of construction equipment that drove up and down the road during his visit, then mysteriously needed to be deployed elsewhere immediately after he left.”
As twilight fell, the group observed an unusual sight: two rival candidates’ caravans converged on the same street corner. For a tense moment, it seemed conflict might erupt. Instead, after a brief negotiation, they efficiently divided the street in half, each distributing goods to their respective sides.
“Remarkable,” whispered Carlo. “They can cooperate when it serves their interests.”
“Of course,” nodded Mang Tomas. “The appearance of competition is essential, but the system itself remains undisturbed. That’s the real genius.”
As they walked home with their bounty, Carlo asked the question that had been troubling him all day: “Uncle, isn’t this all a bit… wrong? Buying votes this way?”
Mang Tomas sighed. “In a perfect world, perhaps. But consider this: for most of the four years between elections, these politicians will forget we exist. These few weeks are the only time their wealth trickles down to us. Are we corrupting the democratic process, or are we extracting what little value we can from a system that otherwise ignores us?”
Carlo considered this as they arranged their election harvest on the kitchen table—enough supplies to last a month, maybe two. Not enough to change their lives, but enough to ease their burdens momentarily.
“I suppose,” Carlo said finally, “that until elections are about policies rather than personalities, we might as well enjoy the season’s bounty.”
“Exactly,” Mang Tomas replied, carefully folding a campaign poster to use as a placemat. “And look at the bright side—only four years until the next harvest.”
